The Hidden Blades of Asshai
by phoenixforce50
Summary: Cristoff Malekan loses his family to his own brash foolishness, his lord father leaves him with a blade to defend himself and some gold to stay alive. Hiding in Asshai, in a city patrolled by the men who killed his family he struggles to survive without anymore bloodshed. Desperate, he turns to the Assassin brotherhood, who take him in and lead him on a path to redemption.
1. Chapter 1

The Hidden Blades of Asshai

**Chapter 1: When the Walls Fall Down**

Death and suffering have been my constant companions.

I have seen beggars starve while fat men laugh at them while they walk past.

I have watched, as Dothraki burned and raped women.

I have witnessed the sinking of a ship off the coast of the Iron islands, scores drowned at sea.

I wept as my family was brutally murdered because of my insolence.

Their blood is on my hands, and now I have no house, no friends and no family.

My name is Cristoff Malekan, and I am an Assassin.

"Are you Cristoff Malekan?" asked the guard as Cristoff passed him through the market.

"Yes, why?" replied Cristoff

The guard drew his shortsword in answer and made to stab Cristoff. Cristoff jumped backwards with a look of bewilderment on his face while the guard followed up with a diagonal cut from shoulder to hip, which Cristoff turned sideways to avoid.

"What have I done-" began Cristoff, but the guard lunged for him with a growl.

People in the market where now beginning to run away screaming, many leaving their goods scattered around the market. The guard made for another swipe but lost his footing as he tripped over a round fruit underfoot. The guard managed to hold on to his sword while he fell, and Cristoff weighed his options: stay and fight, or run and- the man began to get back up, so Cristoff ran, straight down the craftsman's road, barrelling through people and packhorses, vaulting over barrels and then the children rolling them. The guard was surprisingly fast, though, and he managed to keep Cristoff in sight at all times. As the crowds began to thin, Cristoff ran past another guard, who saw his companion chasing him and joined in, throwing a knife at Cristoff's head. It hit him with the end of the pommel and knocked him to the ground in front of a blacksmith's. The forge was hot and it burned Cristoff's face. He scrambled back up and found the two guards circling him like two wolves. He backed up against the anvil, where he desperately reached behind him for some kind of weapon, finished or otherwise. His fingers wrapped around two metal rods and he swung them around in front, intercepting another knife throw from the second guard and clouting the first with the follow-through. Cristoff realised he'd picked up a pair of tongs, which were already slightly dented from the superior metals. The second guard was out of knives so he drew a mace and made to bash Cristoff's head in. Cristoff held the tongs with both hands and their length gave him the advantage of reaching the guard's wrists before he was smashed by his mace. Cristoff forced the guard's arms up and squeezed with both hands on each end of the tongs, crushing the guard's wrists and breaking the bones with an audible cracks. The guard fell back cursing in a foreign accent before retreating. The first guard swung his sword at Cristoff's head. Cristoff realised just in time and only had the top of his hair cut off, and closed the tongs on the man's thick ankle. He knew he wouldn't be able to break it from the angle he was bent at, so he simply righted himself while holding on tight. The guard went down with a surprised noise, dropping his sword. Cristoff picked it up and quickly plunged it through the man's throat. The guard made gurgling noises as the blade pinned his neck into the ground and finally died, blood leaking from the wound.

"Oh gods, what have I done? I need to keep away from the markets if the guards can recognise me on sight." Mused Cristoff. He turned and saw the blacksmith walking back to his forge, noticing the dead guard and the other fleeing. Cristoff suddenly snapped back into the present and quickly scaled the two-story smithy and fled over the rooftops.

On another rooftop, a mysterious man watched him go.

"Hm, this one has talent. He is like tongs that he wields; unusual yet effective, yet easily manipulated by superior force. I will look into it further." The man pulled up the hood of his cloak and dropped into the alley behind him and blended into the crowd.

Cristoff reached his family's house in Asshai. It was old and needed repairs, but since his entire house was murdered because of his recklessness, he had no money to pay for them.

"What am I to do with myself?" he asked, as he sat himself down onto the hard stone bench in the kitchen, pondering his next move.

Meanwhile, other men prepared to watched his every move.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Cristoff woke weary from yesterday's fight. He swung his legs of his bed and stretched his neck and arms. He dressed himself with his usual attire; a rough spun tunic and cloak, the only inconspicuous clothes that escaped the sacking of his home. He broke his fast with a bowl of fruit and milk from his goat in the back. The normally quiet nanny bleated when Cristoff approached to feed it, and it took some time for Cristoff to calm it down.

"What is wrong with you, stupid animal." Cristoff said to the goat, who turned away from him in response.

Cristoff shook his head and contemplated what to do from here. The guards were out looking for him here too. It was only a matter of time that news of his bounty would reach his home city of Asshai. He had no way to make money here, and nothing to trade with except the meagre produce his family's small garden provided, and it was often more trouble than it was worth. At the very least, he should arm himself. He went up to his father's study, where he kept his accounts and other hidden items. Cristoff opened the secret panel on the floor beneath his father's desk, where his father kept his most treasured possessions, including a dagger and a sword.

_"__I remember the first time my father showed me these." _Thought Cristoff. It had been his sixteenth name day, and Cristoff was given a horse as a gift; a magnificent stallion specially bred for strength and intelligence, an experiment of his father's stable master. His father brought him up here and showed him the dagger, saying that one day this would be his too. Only a few weeks later Cristoff's family been killed.

Cristoff shook the memory out of his head and picked up the dagger. It was carved from dragonbone, and the blade was the finest steel money could buy, besides Valyrian steel. It had no guard between the blade and hilt, but that was because the blade was curved back for plunging into the enemy or slitting throats. There were four finger holes covered by a carved piece of sharp dragonbone, meant for punches which followed up with the slightly curved blade. This dagger could easily turn a single punch into a killing strike, and it was reasonably concealable. Cristoff attached the sheath to his belt and covered it with the folds of his cloak.

"Knucklebreaker, I remember you well." Said Cristoff to the dagger as he covered it. 'Knucklebreaker' was the name that his father gave the dagger, since it broke men using only the wielder's knuckles. A poor reason for such a name, thought Cristoff, but still a name.

Cristoff pulled out a second blade, this one a much different. It was designed in the style of the Dothraki arakh, with a curved end and a hand-and-a-half hilt. The blade was fine Valyrian steel which glittered in the sunlight filtering in from the window. He strapped the unnamed blade to his belt as well, as his father never revealed its existence until after he died, when Cristoff was drawn to his father's study and the fabulous dagger within.

Cristoff went down to the stables today, where the guards were fewer and less vigilant. He sat on the bench nearby and watched as people came in and rented out horses, haggled for selling them and so on. The constant motion was interesting, watching how everything here revolved around these dumb animals. Cristoff thought of his own horse that was taken by the men who murdered his family, Shakha. It meant 'wisdom' in his mother's old tongue. And Shakha was indeed wise, at first. She did everything Cristoff needed her to, she could sense his intention and perform it before he even made a command, but showed no loyalty to him when the men took her away.

"That's a nice piece of steel you got there." Said a voice in front of Cristoff. He turned and saw three men towering over him. The one in front gestured to the Valyrian steel blade.

"Might I have a look then, or I just take it for my own." The man leant forward to snatch the blade from Cristoff, but he leant back and kicked the man with both his legs and stood up. The man got right back up and gestured to his lackeys.

"Gut the bastard!" he snarled

Cristoff tried to back off, but there was nowhere to go. He drew the blade and placed his feet apart and bent his knees.

"I'll warn you now; I'm the son of lord Belron. And I know how to wield a blade." Said Cristoff, hoping his dead father's name still meant something to these scum. It didn't, the leader spat on the ground and said, "Your lord father? You mean that prick who was killed for his son's stupidity? Oh, that's you then." He gestured to the other two men, "Boys, let's reunite him with his father, then we'll take his sword."

The two men swung swords at Cristoff simultaneously. He ducked and they collided together. Cristoff went right first, using the curve of the blade to deflect it in front of the leader, cutting him off, while ramming the second man with his shoulder, throwing him off balance. Cristoff slashed at his neck once with the tip of the blade and he drowned internally from his own blood. The first man tried a punch, which Cristoff blocked and sidestepped around his back and stabbed the other man in the back with the curve, pulling it out while the man turned to face him. He snarled and was about to attack when a white shape fell behind him and a small blade jutted out from his chest. He looked down at it, then fell off it, dying. Cristoff watched as the man closed the dying man's eyes, whispering, "May your gods give you peace." The man stood up, and Cristoff got a better look at him. He was wearing a white and red hooded cloak, with a belt lined with throwing knives.

"Who, who are you?" asked Cristoff

The hooded man looked at him with a small smile.

"I am Rothor Forel," said the man in a peculiar accent, "And I have a proposition for you, Cristoff Malekan."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rothor Forel led Cristoff through the back alleys of Asshai. They eventually reached a tall building of unknown purpose, as Cristoff could see no signs or wares anywhere around it.

"Stop. Here will Rothor tell you of his proposition." Said Rothor, as he stopped and turned towards Cristoff. The street was dark and empty, most of the buildings vacant.

"Your family was killed due to your own folly. Rothor knows this, yes, but what was this folly? Rothor wonders…"

Cristoff frowned at Rothor; this man had no right to pry into matters like this, why should he tell him anything?

"Ah, Rothor sees the hesitation in your eyes," He said with a lilting tone, "It is alright, you can tell, because we already know. But it would serve to hear it from horse's mouth."

Cristoff wondered at this Rothor. _"This man is a complete fool. And he dresses like some kind outlandish merchant. How could he know anything about-"_

"Since you seem lost at words, Rothor will start for you. Your family had come to Myr, your father had business with men there, and your betrothed lived there too. Kaisha, her name was. You were almost to be married, but in drunken stupor you rejected her, spat on her house and her family's name and started brawl with father. You lost, and he broke off engagement. You returned to-"

"How do you know any of this?" interrupted Cristoff

"Ah, you do speak, then. Want to finish the story then, yes?"

Cristoff nodded, then looked at the ground as he continued the story in a sad tone, "My father was so disappointed with me, he tried to apologise for me but the father would have nothing of it. He sent mercenaries to teach us a lesson of respect, and I attacked the mercenary captain, and he slaughtered my house and gave me this as a reminder." Cristoff lifted his tunic to reveal a fresh scar on his belly, going from left to right. Rothor tsked in sympathy.

"Looks like you learnt lesson, yes. And now you have nothing. No family, no house, barely anything left to your name. We offer you new family, new house, new purpose. We have seen you fight, you are good, but we can make you better."

"You call yourself Rothor, but you say 'we.' Who do you mean?"

"Clever too. We are many, Rothor is just small part. You can be part too, but you must swear your loyalty by whatever gods you follow, and we will hold you to those vows to your death."

"What do I get out of this?"

"You get a life that is not running from guards and living in old broken house. That has learning, and living, and money if you need. We are brotherhood, and we take care of our brothers."

Cristoff backed away slowly; Rothor was beginning to scare him a little.

"I sense something sour in your words; none would be so generous without something that sours the deal."

Rothor smiled again and nodded solemnly, "There is condition, yes. But you should be fine with it. You already do this thing, yes. And are good at it too."

"What? What do I do already?" asked Cristoff. He was answered by men dropping off the roofs of the building and running to circle him.

"Killing." Said Cristoff simply.

Cristoff looked around slowly. He was surrounded by seven hooded men with no swords in their hands, but at their sides. One, with slightly different robes and a crooked nose walked forward to Cristoff.

"We are the blades in the night, who serve all men for a brighter future." Said the man with the crooked nose.

"We work in the dark, to serve the light." Echoed the men around the circle.

"We are Assassins." Said the man, as he laid a hand on Cristoff's shoulder.

"Wait, I have heard of you. You are the Hidden Blades of Asshai." Said Cristoff with disbelief

The man with the crooked nose chuckled and walked back to the circle of men,

"There are those who call us that, but it is no title we gave to ourselves."

The man circled around to face Rothor.

"Are you sure this man will be of use to us, Rothor?"

"Yes, mentor. He fights well, and has no family. Rothor offer him our family, but he has not said yes yet."

Several of the men chuckled, "Someday, Rothor, your generous heart will get us all killed. I trust you with this one, but we will test him, like all the others."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You have been charged with assassinating this guard captain. He resides in the lower district of the city, near the barracks of the city guard. You must use the blade of his squire in order to place suspicion on him." Instructed Cristoff's mentor, Nicolai Baren

"This man has a squire? Is he a knight from across the narrow sea?" asked Cristoff

"He was, and his squire came with him when he escaped the fall of Aerys Targaryen. Once you have killed him, dip this feather of an eagle in his blood as proof."

Cristoff took the feather with an odd look on his face.

"Why the feather of an eagle?"

"The eagle is the symbol of our, 'house,' you could call it. Our sigil hangs from our walls and you would see it soon enough, when you complete your task. Dangerous, it is, I will not lie to you, but you seem quite capable to do it."

"What evil has this man committed to earn death?"

Nicolai smiled, "It is good of you to ask, it shows you do not take orders without prior thought. He has done terrible atrocities against us and the people of Asshai. I would describe them all, but the list is long. Simply, he makes the Dothraki look like mewling babes."

Cristoff was impressed at that; he knew what the Dothraki were capable of, and if this man was indeed as bad as that, he certainly deserved to die. Cristoff turned to leave, but Nicolai stopped him, "One last thing, do not kill innocents, that is one of the first of our teachings. "

Cristoff nodded once to Nicolai, then departed. Cristoff scrambled up the side of a building and leapt across rooftops, as Nicolai had instructed. A worn path could be seen on top of the clay-baked buildings.

_"__These rooftops have been travelled often. I wonder by whom." _Thought Cristoff to himself

He crossed the city without incident, passing over several guard patrols who never looked up to see his fleeting image flying over the rooftops.

He found the lieutenant's dagger on a nearby building waiting for him to kill the guard captain with.

"Interesting blade, should still be enough." He said to himself

When he finally reached the barracks guards were drilling in the yard, swords clanged and bowstrings twanged rhythmically. Cristoff waited until they strung their bows before exposing himself over the short stretch of roof that led to the guard captain's quarters. The balcony was open to the elements, a slight breeze wafting through the curtains that framed the doorway. Cristoff drew the knife that had been planted nearby, the blade was generic but had a sigil emblazoned on the hilt. He entered the room quietly, watching for any form of movement. As he turned a corner he saw the guard captain with a sword to the throat of a young girl.

"Step back, Assassin. I know why you are here, and you will be just as unsuccessful as your predecessors." Said the captain

"Please, help me-" began the girl

"Shut up! Or I'll slit your throat." Interrupted the captain, the girl closed her mouth with her lower lip trembling.

"You are an evil man and deserve to die." Sai Cristoff with a tone of steel in his voice

"Hah! And who told you that? The Hidden Blades of Asshai? A mad prophet in the market? You are just a boy, no match for me. And certainly not while I have this girl here, I know your code, and it forbids you from letting innocents die." The captain smiled grimly

"You are not as well informed as you thought; I am no Assassin, not yet. Not until you die, and that is what I plan to do. I was given a task, I have no one left for me except these people, so I have nothing to lose."

The grin on the captain's face dropped, and he pressed his sword closer to the girl's neck.

"I will kill her, you know that."

"I do, but an innocent does not need to die in order for you to be brought to justice." Cristoff laid his blade on the floor.

The guard captain also lowered his blade. He pushed the girl gently and she went off.

"You have proven yourself. You do know the difference between vengeance and justice. You have proven yourself to the brotherhood."

"What?" asked Cristoff incredulously

"I am an Assassin too; my job is to keep the city guard off our trail and to test new initiates. We must now fake your death so they will not think you are the same person if they see you again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"What do you mean you are an Assassin?" asked Cristoff

"We take many names, wear many faces but we all serve the brotherhood and its greater mission." Replied the guard captain

"Which is what exactly?"

"To serve all of mankind, to protect the balance of power. For years, the Targaryens ruled through fear and the power of their dragons. We were content to stay here in the Free Cities while they burned and pillaged on dragonback, and through our inaction, others did the work for us. Now Robert Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne."

The guard captain knelt down to pick up his sword and turned to hang it on the wall. Cristoff was about to pick up his blade, but a sudden thought entered his mind. Rushing forward like a bolt from a crossbow, he drew Knucklebreaker, backhanded the man and used the other to push his head against the wall with the serrated edge at his throat. The man uttered a startled cry

"Is it true what they told me about you?" asked Cristoff

"Is what true?"

"Are you really a murderous rapist? No better than the Dothraki?"

The man gave a lilting laugh

"Aha, you are learning already, good. No, I am none of the things that the Assassins told you about me."

"But how do I know you are being truthful?"

"Is not that one of life's great question? When my eyes see something my ears hear otherwise. Which one should I believe? For men can act out things, or lie with honeyed tongues."

Cristoff pushed the blade closer to the man's neck

"What if I killed you now?" he asked

"Well, the Assassins would know that something went horribly wrong and would track you down and ask what you did. And they can sense the truth under a mile of falsehood."

Cristoff let the man go. He fell to the ground grasping his throat. In that moment, he looked older than before.

"Good choice, Cristoff." Cristoff stiffened at his name, "They did tell me you were coming, how else would I know to grab that serving girl to use as a hostage?"

"I don't like being tricked." Said Cristoff coldly

"What man does besides fools and simpletons? But now it is time for you to trick many men, we must make you die."

The pyre was tall and supported on a wooden platform, similar to Dothraki funeral pyres. The idea, explained the Assassin, was that if the fire didn't kill them for whatever reason, the fall into the pit below would. This was where the Assassins would pull off their ruse. As the flames reached their peak, Cristoff would be dropped down into a secret cavity under the pyre and his body swapped out with an already-burnt corpse roughly his size and shape but burnt beyond recognition.

The Assassin stepped up to the platform in front of an assembled crowd. Many were jeering at Cristoff, who was being tied up to the pyre with thick rope.

The Assassin held up his hands for quiet and the crowd died down.

"Good people of Asshai I, guard captain of the west, found this man in my chambers this morning. He came there with the intent to kill me. Me, your loyal protector. This man would see us fall into depravity and chaos, but I said no. I defeated him in single combat, strung him up like the swine h is and brought him here before you now. He admitted to being sent to kill me, he knows of his crime against the people, and so, I carry out justice. The assassin will be burned, so that his hands will forever lay idle. May the gods watch over us all."

The crowd cheered as guards began to light the kindling around Cristoff's feet. The flames caught fast on this dry day, and soon a wall of flame separated Cristoff from the outside world. He could see none but the orange figures in the flame, hear none but the crackling of the wood beneath his feet, and he could feel the hot breath of death upon every inch of his body. He screamed, long and agonising and not entirely false. The flames reached closer and closer, until one reached the rope that held the trapdoor closed. The fire quickly clawed through the fibres and dropped Cristoff into the waiting pit. A great cheer went up from the crowd. Cristoff's fall was cut short, however, by a short rope net that tumbled him down into yet another secret cavity. As he rolled, he could see a burning body fall through where he would have been, but only for a moment, before all light ceased and he entered the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I swear by my life, on the lives of my ancestors, to abide to the Creed: to never let an innocent be harmed through my doing, to hide in plain sight, and to never compromise the Brotherhood through any deed." Said Cristoff, kneeling before the altar in the hall of the Assassin's Brotherhood, Assassins watched from the walls with impassive faces. Rothor stood behind the altar with the Nicolai and a maester from the Citadel, the links in the chain he wore around his neck fashioned from many different metals.

Mentor Aragon, leader of the brotherhood, stood before Cristoff as he finished his words.

"Rise, Cristoff Malekan." Cristoff did as instructed, "Approach the altar and become an Assassin in full."

Cristoff swallowed and walked slowly forward. As he drew closer, he could see the stone altar was stained in many places with blood, and a brazier with strange tongs in it sat nearby.

"Words can be spoken by any man; what you will now face will determine whether or not you are true to those words. Place your hand here, we take the fourth finger of the left hand as proof of your vows and an offering to the Red god."

Cristoff hesitated for a split second, but quickly reached the conclusion that if he were to flee now, he would be killed before he reached the door, and he was no craven besides. He laid his hand with his finger standing alone against the altar. Aragon drew a cleaver and drew it over his hand. He brought it down with speed and efficiency, lessening his pain with a clean cut. Blood flowed out of the stump of his finger onto the altar, but through sheer willpower he kept his hand there.

"We must sterilise the cut, so that it does not fester." Said the unnamed maester, who reached for the tongs, glowing red hot, and approached Cristoff. He clamped them down around the wound and a whole new burst of pain flowed through his arm. This time he could not help but cry out in pain. It was over before he knew it, the skin black and burnt, but the blood no longer flowing.

"Cristoff Malekan, welcome to our brotherhood. You are now an Assassin." Said Aragon

"I am, honoured to be a part of the brotherhood, mentor." Replied Cristoff

"Now, as a novice, you will receive our signature weapon, a hidden blade."

Aragon handed Cristoff a gauntlet with the symbol of the Assassins engraved into the leather.

"What blade? This is just a gauntlet."

A quiet laugh went through the hall, and the maester smiled, but Aragon's face remained stony.

"This gauntlet contains a mechanism for releasing a small blade hidden within it. It will allow you to kill without being seen drawing a blade." Aragon stepped back and threw his left hand and four fingers back, revealing a short blade coming out of a similar gauntlet from the wrist. Cristoff watched, impressed.

"How does it work? It seems like an extension of your arm." He asked

"That is something you will learn in time. And is not a sword an extension of your arm? Why should this be any different?" replied Aragon

The maester walked up to him and offered him a bundle of clothes

"These are your Assassin robes. Wear them with pride." He said as he placed the robes in Cristoff's hands

Nicolai walked up to him now, with a piece of parchment with a wax seal on it.

"This is for you also. You must now go to the Sorrowful Men in Qarth for stealth training. I have done as much as I can teaching you, but now you must learn the true arts of our brotherhood."

"Yes mentor." Replied Cristoff

"However, be on your guard always; Qarth is full of strange men, like the warlocks with blue lips who speak nothing but lies, their sorceries confound even the wisest of us. In any case, do not cross them."

"Yes, mentor. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Your ship leaves when you are ready, so make any preparations you think are necessary before you leave. The ship is called the _White Wader,_ and her captain is Andal Drol. He is a thin wry man but he knows how to sail a ship. He will take you across the Jade Sea."

"Were that I was still with my family, I would hire a ship myself. But my fortune is dwindled, and I would have it shared between us."

"What possessions do you still have? I thought the mercenaries took everything."

"Most of it," agreed Cristoff, "But they left some items they could not carry, mostly furniture and animals who refused to leave. You are welcome to them if you wish."

"We thank you, brother Cristoff. In return, I would direct you to our master-at-arms, Sladek. You will find him down in the yard. Do not mention his hand, or you will be sorry."

Cristoff found Sladek exactly where they said he would be. He was hammering a blade in a small smithy. He did not look up when Cristoff approached. Cristoff cleared his throat but Sladek still ignored him. Finally, Sladek quenched the blade and put it aside, turning to Cristoff.

"What?"

"My mentor Nicolai directed me to speak with you. I think he thought I would need a blade."

"You came to the right place." As Sladek turned Cristoff saw that his right hand was replaced with a metal covering with a hammer on the end. With his left hand, he twisted the hammer out and put in a pair of large tweezers. Cristoff inquired after them,

"What are those?"

"They let me pick up things, are you stupid boy? What else could they be?"

Cristoff shrugged before answering, "It could be some kind of two-pronged fork."

Sladek roared with laughter, "Oh, that's a new one. Now you're thinking like an Assassin, you might not be as useless as you let on. Follow me and we'll get you a blade."

"Actually, I already have two."

Sladek turned back with a raised eyebrow that disappeared under his mop of shaggy red hair

"Then let's see them boy."

Cristoff pulled out Knucklebreaker and the arakh blade. Sladek picked up Knucklebreaker and whacked it against his anvil. Cristoff reached out to stop him but the dragonbone was unharmed.

"Hm, good make, and dragonbone hilt, someone has a deep purse."

He put the handle in the grips of the tweezers and twisted his arm, causing the mechanism to close and ran his finger over the blade edge, cutting a neat line of blood with barely any effort.

"It's been kept in good condition. I think you might just be good enough to be entrusted with one of my blades someday. Let's see the other one."

Cristoff passed him the arakh blade

"And what the hell is this? It looks like a Dothraki blade crossed with a scimitar the pirates use."

"I think that is what my father was trying for when he had it made."

"Your father was a rich idiot. Valyrian steel? On this thing? What was he thinking."

"My father liked to experiment, with blades, horses, anything he could. That blade is the reason I have so little money left."

"No surprise. I don't like it, but you must have some idea how to use it if you brought it here. Clearly you have no need for one of my blades, and yours are fine so you don't need my help. So get out before I chase you out." He waved Cristoff away, who obliged, not wanting to see what the one-handed man was capable of.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_White Wader _was a short and unappealing vessel, with only two sails and a short deck. The captain was getting his cargo unloaded when Cristoff found him.

"What can I do for you sir?" asked Andal Drol

"I need transport to Qarth." Said Cristoff, handing him the scroll with Aragon's seal. Andal cracked the seal and read the letter, his charming grin never leaving his face. He finished and rolled the scroll back up and tucked it away in his sleeve.

"Very well then, it just so happens I have business in Qarth, and I would be delighted to take you with us sir."

"You can call me- Jonas." Cristoff had nearly forgotten the cover name he was given to use in public, since he was technically dead.

"Welcome aboard Jonas. I hope the hold isn't too rough for your liking. I'll have the payment on our return. I'm sure your associates will have no trouble procuring it."

Cristoff was not sure whether Andal knew about the Assassins or if he just thought that he was getting paid by someone else. Cristoff never saw the contents of the letter so he didn't know which, and he kept the information to himself.

_White Wader _pulled out of the port and began the long circuit around Essos' edge. The weeks went by quickly, and Cristoff kept in practice by impressing the crew with his agility and deftness. He felt strangely comfortable with the sea rolling the boat beneath him, the spray on his tongue and wind in face. It all just felt, right. Cristoff closed his eyes and smiled into the sun from the top of the mast. The lookout still clambered up behind him, about to owe Cristoff two silvers. Cristoff was vaguely aware of a voice yelling across the deck, until he realised it was Andal calling his false name.

"Jonas! Get down here!"

Cristoff opened his eyes and frowned. Ever since Cristoff had set foot on Andal's ship he treated him like part of the crew; able to be told what to do anytime he wanted. Cristoff took the two silvers from the lookout and slid down a long rope that hung from the topsail. Cristoff hit the fore of the deck with a resounding _thud, _rolling to break his fall. But he came down at the wrong angle and skidded on his feet before falling over backwards. Men turned and laughed at his attempted descent while he got back up.

"Jonas, I would have thought the gods graced you with more wits than mule. I need you intact so that I can get paid."

_"__And use me for free labour while I'm here."_ Thought Cristoff painfully

"Sorry captain. What do you need from me?"

"I was told you were good at sums, and you're the only other person who can read here. Help me through my accounts in my cabin, now." Andal turned and walked back without waiting for a reply. Cristoff started walking but a crewman stopped him,

"Don't feel like he's singling you out; he does this with each passenger. Those who refuse get thrown overboard. He's a lot stronger than he looks."

"I'd still like to see him try." Replied Cristoff

"If you anger him, you might just."

Cristoff huffed and continued. Andal's sums were long and complicated. Andal used some kind of foreign counting method that he claimed, 'got the job done in half the time' but was completely alien to Cristoff. Eventually he worked through enough that he was dismissed. He slept like a log that night, the waves gently rocking him to sleep.

The next night, Cristoff was sent down to the holdfast to bring up the food for the men that night. The meal was sparse; dried meat and black bread but it filled Cristoff's belly all the same. Cristoff woke up in the middle of the night in a sweat and a roiling belly. He stumbled up to the deck to get some fresh air. He began to feel better, but soon had to give up his meal to the sea. As he watched the food float away, he wondered why none of the other men where sick from the meal; they'd all eaten the same food, hadn't they? He looked up again, but he could see something against the black night, something tall and waving. The wind was generous in the night, and Andal had demanded that they keep sailing so that he would get paid as soon as possible. Cristoff narrowed his eyes and could make out the shape of a ship. As his stomach settled and his mind cleared, he realised with dread that these were no allies to traders, that they were dreaded pirates who lurked around the coasts but would occasionally cross the narrow sea to steal exotic goods,

"Pirates! Pirates to port!" called the lookout from the top of the mast.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Cristoff ran back down into the lower deck and yelled for the crew to rouse themselves.

"Pirates are here! Wake, all of you, wake!"

Men grumbled at the early wake-up call but few understood the urgency of the situation. Most stayed in their hammocks until they were thrown out by their fellows. Andal came down with a Myrish-eye in one hand and a sword strapped to his hip that wasn't there before.

"Wake up you lazy dogs! We have pirates on the portside!" he cried

Cristoff dressed himself in his boiled leather armour and strapped on his hidden blade, sheathed his sword and knife and ran back up to the deck. The pirates could be seen individually now, and the meagre moonlight glinted against their spears. Men gathered behind Cristoff with bows and swords but most preferred to use axes. The helmsman attempted to outrun the ship but the longship was faster than them and had the wind behind it, allowing it to come up alongside _White Wader _with ease.

As Cristoff watched the pirates board, Andal's men rushed to engage them. Arrows were loosed with twangs and men began to fall before a foot had been set on the deck. When those feet did touch the deck, the fighting broke out in a violent clash of steel

"Jonas, you can handle a blade, get behind those men!" screamed Andal over the din of the fighting

Cristoff was about to draw his sword, but then a whisper of a memory popped into his head,

The Assassin's great hall was given over to an enormous wooden structure with ropes and ladders covering most of it. Nicolai explained that it was a training course for the mobility that an Assassin often required.

_"__Why are there so many ropes and sloped buildings?" _asked Cristoff

_"__You never know where you might be when you need to cross a rooftop or scale a wall. This will teach you each and every method of climbing you should ever need."_

Cristoff glanced up and could see the two sailboats had their yards right by each other. He scrambled up the mast and swung onto the yard, his feet across it for balance, and he slowly made his way across one ship to the other. He reached the top of the other ship's mast and found the lookout looking the wrong way. He flicked out his blade and stabbed him in the chest, then threw him onto the deck. He screamed as he fell but no-one heard him over the din. Cristoff followed him down on a rope and drew his sword and dagger when he landed. Still, no one noticed him; all the pirates were on the deck boarding _White Wader._

Cristoff snuck up behind the backmost crewman and simply slit his throat with his sword, the blood poured over the deck and puddled there. Cristoff walked over to the next man and pierced his neck with Knucklebreaker, shredding his windpipe to pieces. Cristoff systematically killed two more using different techniques until the rest of the men were too close to each other to be killed unseen. He stood there with Knucklebreaker in one hand and the sword in the other.

"Well, now that I have warmed up," said Cristoff loudly to no-one in particular. Two men turned at his voice and charged him with a spear and sword. Cristoff sidestepped the spearman's lunge and twisted the shaft out of his hands sending it spinning into the corpse of a man Cristoff had already killed and followed through by rotating his sword in his hand and catching the man's throat in the blunt edged curve while the other man followed with his sword, swinging it into his companion's side. While the man bled out, trapped, Cristoff shoved him at his companion and crushed both their necks with his feet. He looked up to see another man come at him, almost getting him with his bastard sword. Cristoff rolled behind him and hacked at the back of his knee, sending him to the deck screaming in pain. Cristoff bounded up and cut off his head with two cleaves of his sword. The Valyrian steel sang as it sliced through the man's spine followed by a fountain of blood from the severed neck.

Cristoff danced through the pirates, slicing necks and arms left and right. Several men from both ships stopped to watch him dispatch them, before returning to fighting. Eventually, Cristoff was up against five men at once. Surrounded, there was little he could do against this many. He kept leaping around to keep himself on his toes and to keep each man in view so he wouldn't be surprised, but they kept closing in.

_"__Now or never Cristoff, them or you."_

Cristoff watched the expressions of each man as he spun around. Although it was hard to see in the low light, he could tell that at least two were uncertain at how to proceed against this enemy who killed most of them. Cristoff picked the one closest to him and lunged with his sword, only to feint and slice low with Knucklebreaker, drawing a line of blood from groin to throat. The man stumbled back clutching his throat trying to draw his next breath as his lungs filled with blood. Cristoff swung his sword wide, warding off the attacker on his right and catching the dying man in the curve. He used the momentum to spin around him and throw him into the group of four still on him. As one leapt sideways to avoid his companion Cristoff was already on top of the next man, slashing with his sword to throw him off balance and sweeping him with a leg to throw him to the deck, where he stabbed him in the chest. The next man was able to slash at him with his knife but Cristoff blocked it easily between Knucklebreaker and his hidden blade, which he extended quickly. Blood seeped from wrist but he had bigger problems. The man brought his fist around and hit Cristoff square in the face. Cristoff went backwards, still on his feet, tasting blood. He swilled the foul-tasting stuff in his mouth, drawing more from the cut, and spat it in the face of the next attacker. Cristoff's blood soon mixed with that of the pirate's as his eyes were sliced into four equal mounds.

Cristoff stood standing there, panting heavily and bleeding profusely from his wrist. His ears had a pounding noise in them, like his ears were full of water and a drum was going off ever few moments.

_"__Just these last two, then-"_ the thought was interrupted by a mace swinging at his leg and a spear at his face. He dodged the mace, swinging at the man's wrist and Knucklebreaker intercepted the spear's head, holding it at bay while Cristoff recovered. The strike at the man's wrist was cut short by the clang of metal on metal, as Cristoff realised with grim realisation that he hit armour. His weak fingers let go of his sword involuntarily and it clattered to the deck. Cristoff turned his body and forced the spear aside, grunting with effort. With his free hand he made a wild grab for the shaft. Unbelievably, his fingers curled on the spear and yanked it out of his grasp. Cristoff used the last of his momentum to spin around and stab the mace-wielder in the face.

The man cried out unintelligibly before dying. The other man bent to try for Cristoff's sword but Cristoff pulled on one last reserve of strength and fell upon him, his hidden blade piercing his lung and pinning him to the deck. He switched Knucklebreaker to his other hand and smashed his face in with the guard. All at once, the world was silent and still, loud and vibrant. Cristoff's vision began to blur.

_"__Oh, my wrist-" _Cristoff fell into unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Cristoff woke in Andal's own cabin. He was very groggy, but he could move without too much pain. Daylight shone through windows, and Cristoff slowly got to his feet and inspected his wrappings. There was a thick bandage around his wrist, and a sour taste left by the blood that had clotted in his mouth. All in all, it could be a lot worse.

Andal came in and saw that he was up,

"Oh, the Lord of Light has indeed blessed you Jonas. Torin was almost certain you had lost too much blood."

"How much did I lose?" asked Cristoff

"Almost as much as you took from the pirates. I must give you my deepest thanks; often have we seen pirates attacking ships during our travels, but never have they sought out our small vessel. And the way you fought! You were like an eagle tearing apart rodents. I have never seen anything like it before."

"I had a very good master-at-arms to teach me."

"Indeed. We will be arriving at a port for a day or two, but you should continue resting, Torin tells me."

"Alright, thank you Andal."

Andal bowed low, revealing a scar on the top of his head, where no hair grew. He straightened up and left the room.

Cristoff sighed, "I really didn't think this through, did I?" he said aloud. He absentmindedly wrung his fingers to get them warm and felt like something was missing.

"I wonder why they took that finger specifically." The stump of his finger had almost healed, and flesh was beginning to form over the hole. Cristoff was to check its progress and redress it if need be every day, and no matter what, to not scratch it. He wore a specially made glove that covered the hole and kept the bandage tight around his hand. Cristoff went out on deck to get some fresh air, the salty ocean smell bracing and he soon felt better. Men cheered at him or clapped him on the back for saving them from the pirates, elsewise they would have been overrun and ransacked. Cristoff returned their praises with a quiet smile and climbed the mast's rigging to reach the crow's nest. The lookout was already up there scouting the horizon.

"What can you see beyond?" asked Cristoff

"Naught but waves, the coast and seabirds." replied the lookout without looking down

Cristoff looked around, squinting against the noonday sun. in the distance he could make out a cluster of buildings ahead. They had already passed Yin and Asabhad, and Cristoff knew of no other major cities along the coast.

"Qarth! I see Qarth!" cried the lookout, a cheer followed his words below. Cristoff smiled slightly, his stomach had the feeling of ravens trapped within.

_"__Why am I so nervous? Mentor Nicolai said I had great potential, I should be fine, he said."_

They arrived at Qarth at dusk, _White Wader_ begun unloading her cargo and Andal saw Cristoff off.

"May R'hllor watch over you Jonas. "

Cristoff smiled and turned to the city. The docks were crowded and noisy, full of men bringing things on and off of ships, and further up past the docks was a line of vendors along the street, each clamouring for the attention of a passing customer. Cristoff was at a loss at that point. He was told that a Sorrowful man would come and see him but he could see no one remotely resembling the silent assassins.

"Are you looking for me?" said a voice behind Cristoff

With great restraint, Cristoff turned around calmly and saw the Assassin standing there in his full robes, his hood pulled low over his face.

"You are Cristoff Malekan. Follow me." Said the man simply, and he began to weave towards the crowded street. Cristoff followed closely, in order not to lose the man among the great throng of people.

Cristoff lost sight of the man more than once, but as he pushed his way through he would always find him standing there, impassive as a stone in a river. Eventually they reached a deserted quarter of the great city, a series of decrepit old buildings lay wasting in the sun.

"I heard that Qarth was the greatest city that is, was and will be. Why would they let these places fall to ruin?"

The man responded without turning, "Even the Thirteen cannot afford to keep every building in pristine condition, so long ago we arranged for the Warlocks to hide these buildings so that we may operate in secret. No man may find them as long as we do not wish them to."

The man walked up to the closest building and pushed the door open. Cristoff followed cautiously, until he was inside a great hall that did not look like it was part of the building itself. The hall had a high roof, with the Assassin's banner hanging from the far wall; an eagle, black and white, against a field of red.

"Do you know what our sigil stands for, young Cristoff?" asked the Assassin, who pulled back his hood as he entered the building, revealing close cropped grey hair, an uncommon sight in Qarth.

"No, I do not."

"We are an old order, dating back to the start of the reign of the dragons, our brothers began on Valyria, so it is said. The eagle represented our strength as hunters, our eyes that see everywhere, our ferocity in battle and our ruthless efficiency. The field of red is debated amongst our order; some say it represents R'hllor, whom we pay homage to, others say it represents the blood we leave behind. We exist to hold the balance in the world, and we achieve that through removing people from this world the only way that is permanent."

"We kill them." Finished Cristoff

The Assassin nodded, "We kill them."

He guided Cristoff through a series of hallways until he entered a room with an empty bed and a candle flickering in a sconce

"These are your quarters. You will be woken for your training before dawn, do not wander about below the third floor, as there are things there you should not yet know. Food will be brought at mealtimes in the main hall we passed through. Until then, get settled and familiarise yourself with the first three floors, but go no deeper."

"How deep does this place go?"

The Assassin smiled, "No-one truly knows, once a group set out to find out how deep it went, and they have never returned. Some say you can hear them fumbling around in the dark, trying to find the light from which they came." The Assassin closed the door behind him and left Cristoff alone in the cell. He let his satchel fall to the ground and took a nap until evening, when he was called for supper.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Cristoff woke when the sun was still far below the horizon. An Assassin looked over him, holding a lantern. Cristoff squinted and waved the light away. He got up slowly, bringing his mind into focus.

"You should be ready to go now, Malekan. I do not tolerate laziness." Said the woman who held the lamp. Cristoff blinked until his eyes adjusted

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to being woken at such an hour." Said Cristoff, trying to sound resentful

"Then get used to it. I want you in the main hall at this time tomorrow morning. If I must wake you again, you may find yourself missing an eyebrow."

Cristoff paused at the threat and looked at the woman, she was short, her features highlighted by the light she held. Her dark skin was given an orange tinge, making it seem darker, almost unnatural, her small nose and bright blue eyes made her look comely, though Cristoff doubted that she would appreciate any attempts to woo her. He donned his Assassin robes and followed her out the door when she abruptly turned and left. She walked at a brisk pace, though Cristoff easily kept up, staying a respectful distance behind her. He tried to make conversation as they ascended the stairs that led to the surface,

"So, what should I call you then?"

The woman responded without turning,

"You may call me mentor Alena, or simply mentor."

"Alright then, mentor Alena, I am-"

"Cristoff Malekan, yes I know." Alena stopped to speak to him directly, "Do not take me for an ordinary woman, boy. I joined the brotherhood after my mother, and she was fierce in the extreme. She was the daughter of a great khal, so do not think me weak." She turned back and continued through the main hall, where Assassins could be seen poring over scrolls or their hidden blades by candlelight. Cristoff had a thought suddenly, and before he could stop himself, spoke.

"Why is a woman like yourself an Assassin?" he blurted.

Alena twitched, and one of the other Assassins turned and looked at him with a worried expression. Alena turned slowly, her eyes staring daggers into Cristoff's. She was half a head shorter than him, but she made him want to crawl under a rock right then. Instead of getting angry, like Cristoff expected her to, she explained in an icy tone,

"The question you ask answers itself. You ask because you presume that a woman cannot perform the act of taking a man's life. You are wrong. They say that poison is a woman's weapon, but is it not more effective than a blade? Poison can kill quickly, or slowly, or painfully, or painlessly. It can kill with a single drop, whereas a blade may require many cuts. Poison reaches through armour, attacking through our natural weakness, almost as if we are welcoming it. it is things like this that you must learn, Malekan. For us, there is no such thing as man or woman, only the target, and what stands between us, be it a lord's palace or a beggar."

Cristoff waited a few heartbeats before responding, "We are not to kill innocents." He said firmly

Alena looked at him as if he were a curious child, one slender eyebrow raised, "That is true, but I did not say how one might get past a beggar. Again, you must look with your eyes, listen with your ears." She spun on her heels and walked up the stairs to reach the top of the derelict shell of the building which belied the interior's true nature. Alena stood against the failing moon when Cristoff finally caught up with her.

"Cristoff, look around you. What do you see?" she asked

Cristoff looked at the nightscape of Qarth, "I see the queen of cities sleeping."

Alena nodded, "And what do you hear?"

Cristoff closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds of the night, he could hear faint chirping of insects below, the quiet murmur of men in the night walking the streets, and many other sounds that he could not place

"I hear the city is not truly sleeping."

Alena nodded again, "Good, you may just become one of us after all. Your eyes tell you one thing, your ears tell you another, which one do you believe?"

Cristoff remembered the Assassin posing as the guard captain in Asshai who said the same thing, but Cristoff was still confused, "My ears?" he guessed. Alena gave him a sharp slap over his head.

"No, for what if you cannot hear? Will you make yourself blind as well as deaf? No, what you do not realise is that they tell you the same thing. The city sleeps, yet in its slumber it stirs. While it stirs, it is asleep. Do you understand?"

"No."

"Good, if you said yes I would have known you to be lying."

"How could you have known?" asked Cristoff

"Again, see with your eyes, hear with your ears. A man's face is like a book, once you learn the letters, you can read what's behind his face."

Cristoff felt like this was going to be a long day, but he listened to Alena intently, as it was all he could do for now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The training was hard, each lesson began before dawn and ended late in the day. Cristoff rarely had time to himself. Each day he would free run across the rooftops of Qarth, learning the alleyways and shortcuts through the city. The markets were always full of people and noise and made good places to hide or lose pursuers. Alena was not his only teacher, the Sorrowful men had teachers of arms, which Cristoff would only see sparingly, and masters of each different element of stealth. Cristoff excelled at eavesdropping and pickpocketing. Some of the Sorrowful men had risen in the ranks enough to learn some of the more ancient techniques that were more than just sleight of hand, but that was all Cristoff overheard. At one point, it was rumoured that a queen of dragons had come to the gates of Qarth, and Xaro Xhoan Daxos bled for her to permit them entry, though few saw the fabled Mother of Dragons. Cristoff was asked to investigate as part of his training.

"We want you to find out what exactly her purpose is here. We had heard that she had indeed brought three dragons into the world through blood and fire, but we have little information beyond that." Alena told him. She said that he had a day to prepare before he set out the night after next. He donned his Assassin's hooded robes and climbed to the rooftops. Crossing the city had become easier now that he knew the layout of the rooftop, and he made the journey quickly. As he approached Xaro Xhoan Daxos' palatial home, he saw the merchant had a party for his guests. Cristoff lowered himself to the roof and sharpened his senses with a technique of the mind that Alena had taught him.

"If I cut off the head, it will be easier to carry"

Cristoff almost jumped at the Dothraki language being spoken in Qarth. He looked below him. There were some Dothraki with arakhs loitering around a gold statue. A silver haired girl was with them.

"No! We are guests here." He heard her reply. Could this be queen Daenerys? She looked like a Targaryen with her silver hair and violet eyes, Cristoff had little option. There were too many people for him to investigate now. He would have to come back late that night. Cristoff was about to leave, but something made him stay. As he looked around again, he saw a tall skinny man in a blue robe with blue lips hold out a crystal to Daenerys. Cristoff's gaze was held captive by the crystal, then all of a sudden, another man who looked identical to the first appeared out of nowhere.

"Sorcerers." Muttered Cristoff

The man looked up at Cristoff and smiled a ghastly smile; his blue lips making it look like it didn't belong on the face of a man. Then he disappeared. Cristoff finally got up and left.

"What did you see?" asked Alena

"I saw a tall bald man with blue lips conjure another of himself, I saw two Dothraki attempt to steal a gold statue, and I saw a Targaryen." Replied Cristoff

"And what did you learn from this_?"_

"I saw the man was a sorcerer, a true sorcerer, perhaps Pyat Pree; if what I was told about the Undying was true. The Targaryen must have been Daenerys, all the others were killed. The Dothraki must have come with Daenerys; they wouldn't have been let into the city otherwise."

"Good, when you learn more tonight, be careful. Wear the mask that hides your face, you cannot risk being seen. If the Undying are involved here, things could very easily go sour."

Cristoff infiltrated Xaro Xhoan Daxos' home once again, this time under the cover of darkness. His household guards patrolled the grounds with torches, so it was only night above the ground.

Cristoff had been given a vial of a special poison that would cause the victim to hallucinate and attack those around them before dying. His hidden blade had been modified to have a hollow needle to pierce the skin to insert the poison, it would only require a prick for it to work.

"If I kill them all they will know something happened, and it would be almost impossible anyway." Whispered Cristoff to himself, "I must do this without any witnesses."

He descended the wall and landed on a guard relieving himself in the garden. His blade pierced his heart and he died in silence. The bush was large enough to hide them both within its leaves. Cristoff dragged the legs under the bush and snuffed the torch. He crept along the darkened wall, timing his approach to avoid being close to any other guards. Reaching a set of stairs, he made his way up to Daenerys's bedchamber. She lay by her bed, still and unmoving, her chest slowly rising and falling. Her handmaids were nearby, also asleep. It was rumoured that a bear-man was traveling with her, a knight of Westeros. He was nowhere to be seen, and that worried Cristoff. The last thing he wanted right now was to be surprised. He backed into the shadows as he heard footsteps behind him. The bear-man walked past, his massive build obvious under his loose tunic. Cristoff could make out his grizzled features in the moonlight, but the man never turned around. He knelt by Daenerys' bed and stroked her cheek gently. She stirred slightly and he got up and left.

Cristoff looked around for the fabled dragons. Sure enough, the two Dothraki bloodriders were standing guard over the three cages. The dragons were sleeping peacefully, but one, the largest one, woke and hissed at Cristoff, hiding in the shadows. Cristoff cursed silently and slunk away.

_"__I have everything I need. I should get back before I am discovered." _He thought


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"If Daenerys Targaryen is alive, then this woman is her." Said Cristoff

"And you're sure? You saw the dragons?" asked Alena

"Yes, and I saw the man-bear who travels with her."

"Ser Jorah Mormont; a Westerosi knight. You would be wise not to cross him, Westerosi knights cover themselves in steel and it makes them very hard to kill but easy to avoid."

"What is our next move?"

"Nothing. This woman seeks an army and a fleet to carry them to Westeros to retake her birthright. She came here with nothing but the clothes on her back and her Dothraki. Xaro Xhoan Daxos is not generous enough to give her all that and none of the Thirteen would either. We will leave her to her own plans. If any of them would upset the balance of power we may intervene, but not otherwise."

"Then why didn't you stop the rebellion of Robert Baratheon?"

"Some battles you know you cannot hope to win. When those battles arise you are wise to turn a blind eye to them lest you get dragged into something that will spell your doom."

She stared at his face for a few seconds.

"You understand. Good, now we will continue your training. Go and see Holdan Morr in the war room. He will teach you in the art of war."

"War? I thought we were not involving ourselves in this feud."

"We are not, at least not directly. But R'hllor has sent visions to some of us, of dragons soaring over the skies, and blood rain. These are the harbingers of war, and we must be prepared. You show a great deal of promise; I hope you live up to my expectations."

Cristoff was wordless for a moment. Was Alena actually complementing him?

"I- thank you mentor." Cristoff knelt hastily

"Get up, I am not some lord you must bow to. You will still be training with me to learn the arts of deceit. You will see me every other day, and Holdan will take care of you for a time. Now go, before the day is done. Holdan likes to sleep in the afternoons."

Cristoff nodded and jogged to the war room. He knocked on the door, and a voice bade him enter. The room was round, with a large table depicting a map of Qarth, complete with miniature buildings that mapped out the entire city. Braziers burnt low, giving the city the look as if it was night, and recesses in the walls held all sorts of myriad items. Cristoff's night vision from wandering the rooftops allowed him to make out rolled up scrolls and block that looked like the miniature buildings on the table.

"You are Cristoff Malekan, the one who Alena thinks shows great promise, yes?" asked a man in the shadows who suddenly stepped out into Cristoff's view

"What? Oh, yes. And you are Holdan Morr?"

The man nodded under his hood, "I am."

Cristoff thought the man was wearing a black mask that obscured his face, but as Holdan lowered his hood, he saw that he was a Summer Islander, with skin as dark as night. He blended perfectly in the darkness; his Assassin's robes were anointed with feathers, making him look like a huge black bird of prey.

"I am to teach you the arts of making war, and if the situation arises, surviving one."

Holdan went over to the recesses and pulled out a large ebony box. He laid on an empty spot on the large table. Inside was the most beautiful cyvasse set Cristoff had ever seen, each piece carved by a master of the craft out of a variety of materials, making them look like the real things in stone. The pieces had bases which determined their allegiance, with one side having jade green bases and the other a rich red jasper. Cristoff picked one up and studied it closely. It was an elephant, decorated in extravagant war armour. Holdan himself held a three-headed dragon. The elephant was impressive but the dragon took his breath away. It looked like it could come alive at any moment and fly around the room, its eyes glowed with rubies and its scales shone like jet, each one was visible, even in the low light.

"This cyvasse set belonged to our first master. It is our most valuable possession here in monetary terms. He loved to play cyvasse so much that became the best war strategist in the Free Cities. Men would clamour for his leadership, but he would refuse. He wanted nothing to do with wars, so he formed our branch of the Assassin brotherhood. Working behind enemy lines, we sought to end wars before they began. One blade in the night often held thousands during the day."

"Are we going to play cyvasse?"

"Yes. We will play every day you are here until you can beat me three times in a row. Let's begin then." Holdan seated himself and began to set up the board, placing the curtain in the middle so Cristoff could not see his layout. Cristoff seated himself and followed suit.

"Are we really going to use this set? It looks like it should be put on display rather than used." Commented Cristoff as he placed his mountains on the board.

"It may look extravagant, and indeed it is, but that demonstrates the value of a single soldier. As I said, one blade in the night can be worth thousands in the day." Holdan leant back, already finished setting up his army when Cristoff was already setting up his footsoldiers.

"That was swift."

"One must be ready to fight at a moment's notice and have a strategy in their head even sooner." Holdan drew the screen and revealed his army.

"What are you doing? I haven't finished yet!"

"You were not ready in time, your enemy ambushed you. They have the first move." Holdan began to move his pieces

"But that is against the rules!" cried Cristoff

"War is rarely by the rules. And we are Assassins, we fight outside the rules every time. Your move."

Cristoff hastily put down the rest of his army and looked at Holdan's setup. He had a strong vanguard of archers and spearmen with cavalry on the left flank and mountains on the right with footsoldiers dotted among them. Cristoff sighed and made his move.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Learning how to play cyvasse effectively took up most of Cristoff's spare time, thinking of new strategies to beat Holdan. Each time he tried it, Holdan would see right through it. One time he thought he had caught him off guard but Holdan was just bluffing and took down most of his army in one fell sweep.

"Is this meant to teach me anything or am I just going to just have to learn by failing until I get it right?"

"If you did that, you would never win, as I would anticipate your moves as I learnt more about your playing style. This is for your own benefit, to learn from yourself. I am teaching you nothing by doing this. You must learn a style of warfare that you can handle well enough to come close to winning, and you almost have, we are at a draw here."

Sure enough, the board had an equal number of pieces on either side, virtually identical on either side and it was late-game too, Cristoff smiled, realising his minor success.

"However, there is always something that might change the field, maybe high ground, reinforcements or even a dragon." Holdan smiled grimly

"So what happens now?" asked Cristoff

"Now, we move on to today's actual lesson. Follow me."

Holdan lead him outside into the morning. The air was still and the morning sun peeked over the rooftops. Holdan led Cristoff over the rooftops.

"Where are we going?" asked Cristoff, as they passed the House of the Undying

"Everywhere. Watch where we go and pay attention to what is beneath your feet."

Cristoff slowed down and watched his surroundings pass by. He stopped at the edge of a rooftop and looked around. The streets were narrow here, beggars were few and guards patrolled the area, keeping the peace. Cristoff looked at the way the buildings fit the slight curve of the land, yet still stood tall.

"Are you trying to tell me about the way the land lies? About how the high ground makes it easier for defenders to hold off enemies?" called Cristoff

"Yes, all that and more." Replied Holdan "The advantage that higher ground provides is enormous; you can launch attacks and hide your forces with just a hill, if it's big enough."

Cristoff and Holdan slowed and perched themselves on the city wall, looking out into the Red Waste.

"Why are you teaching me this?" asked Cristoff

Holdan looked at him sideways, the sun on his back throwing his already-dark skin into complete darkness

"There are dark tidings on the horizon, our priests have seen it. R'hllor has shown them in the flames, and those flames have shown you, leading a charge against an unseen enemy. We knew that in order for you to succeed, we would have to teach you the art of warfare so here we are." They sat there for a time, silently watching the landscape before they headed back.

After that, Cristoff began to improve at Cyvasse, often coming very close to defeating Holdan, by using his mountains and rivers to his advantage. After a particularly difficult battle, Holdan rose abruptly.

"Enough, you have progressed far Cristoff. Now we move onto the next stage in your training. Your time with me is at an end but we will meet regularly to continue playing. You never know when it is useful to play cyvasse."

Holdan led him back to the upper levels of the Assassin hideout. There he took him up to the red priest watching over the night fire on the roof; many Assassins prayed as the flames burned.

"Oh, red R'hllor, save us from the darkness, guide us into the light and lend its strength to our blades that we may strike at the cold hearts of our enemies!" called the priest

"R'hllor give us strength." Murmured the crowd of worshippers

"Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember:"

"Nothing is true."

"Where other men are limited by morality or law, remember:"

"Everything is permitted." Whispered Holdan

"We work in the dark, to serve the light of R'hllor." Said the priest, his hands high over the flames

"We are Assassins." Finished Cristoff, recalling the words of the Creed.

The crowd of worshippers dispersed gradually and Holdan led Cristoff to the priest.

"Cristoff Malekan. The Lord has shown me your coming." Said the priest without turning.

"I am finished with him. Now he's your responsibility." Said Holdan, and he disappeared into the shadows.

The priest turned around, and Cristoff felt his warmth like the morning sun. His face was old and wrinkled but his eyes burned with an unnatural fire.

"I am Larazenhor Vollahran, and I will be teaching you of the power of our Lord."


End file.
